


Fear

by SeptemberCrypt



Series: Memory [6]
Category: The Maze Runner (Movies), The Maze Runner Series - All Media Types
Genre: And angst, Cuddling, M/M, Nighmares, of course
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-27
Updated: 2018-04-27
Packaged: 2019-04-28 14:22:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,077
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14451132
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SeptemberCrypt/pseuds/SeptemberCrypt
Summary: The nightmares will never really go away, but sometimes they're more bearable with somebody by your side.





	Fear

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Sheeijan](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sheeijan/gifts).



_Fear._

_It’s all he can feel. Coursing through every vein, growing stronger with every beat of his heart._

**_Thump thump._ **

**_Thump thump._ **

_He’s numb with it. Every other feeling and emotion dulled down to nothing. He’s being consumed, bit by bit. Like it’s a ravenous wolf devouring its prey. A hungry beast, tearing him apart._

_And the funny thing is: he can’t remember why he’s so scared. He doesn’t know why he’s so scared, or what he’s running from; but he knows he can’t stop. No matter how much his lungs burn, or how badly his leg wants to give out. Newt knows that he can’t stop running._

_So that’s what he does. Run. The further he runs, the clearer the world around him becomes. And the clearer it becomes, the more he feels the need to keep running. Because he knows this place. Newt knows these cracked stone walls, miles high and covered in thick ivy. It’s all too familiar, and too full of ghosts._

_He can’t be back in the Maze. He just **can’t**. They got **out**. They’re **free**. And yet, here he is, running for his life. The clicks and clangs and moans of Grievers echo behind him, sending fresh waves of terror through his body with every sound. He thought he’d left this all behind. He thought he was finally **safe**. Was it all a lie? _

_His foot catches a large crack in the ground, sending him tumbling. He smacks his head on the stone, feeling rather than hearing the crack. He tries to push himself back up, but his arms give out. He hears the Grievers getting closer. Newt rolls himself onto his back, realizing that he’s not going to be able to run any father. He’d dead. He’s so dead._

_He feels his heartbeat quicken, his breath shortening. A Griever rounds the corner; metallic legs digging into the hard stone floor. Newt feels paralyzed, unable to move or scream as the creature nears him. He closes his eyes, sure that this is the end. But then, the crack his foot is wedged into starts to widen. He opens his eyes, drawing his legs back and peering over the edge into the black abyss. He hears a shriek—his head snapping up to see the griever only a few feet away, its mouth open and spewing strange fluids._

_He hesitates, unsure if this is a good idea. But he doesn’t really have any other choices, does he? He looks back down, hoping the fall isn’t too far. The Griever grabs at him just as he jumps; claws tearing at his clothing as he plummets into the unknown._

 

Newt wakes with a start, suddenly sitting up and clawing at his clothing. Falling. He should be falling. He blinks his surroundings into focus, seeing that it’s just him and Tommy’s dark room on the ship. He’s not in Maze. No, never again. He’s in the Scorch now—not that it’s much better. But here—right here—Newt feels safe. Nothing can get him here. The Grievers are gone. They won’t find him here.

He tells himself this, over and over. Maybe if he repeats it enough times in his head, he’ll actually believe it to be true. Maybe. Newt runs his hands through his hair, tugging and pulling on it in an attempt to keep himself sane. He feels hot tears running down his cheeks, dripping onto the bedspread covering his legs. He’s safe here. He’s safe here. He has to be. Nothing can hurt him right now.

He suddenly feels hands covering his own, stopping his movements; a weight next to him on the bed. He sniffs, opening his eyes as Thomas lowers their hands from Newt’s head. He doesn’t say anything—just lets Tommy pull his into a tight embrace. And then, all the fear just melts away. The tension leaves his body, the anxiety calms, and the weight on his chest doesn’t feel quite so heavy anymore. Thomas wraps his arms around Newt, a hand resting on the back of his head and lightly stroking his hair.

They often have bad dreams. It’s nothing new for Thomas to hold and comfort him in the middle of the night. But still, it makes his stomach feel fluttery every time. Three years he spent in that godforsaken maze. He hasn’t felt cared for like this in _so long_. Nobody was ever really ‘touchy-feely’ back in the Glade. So after they escaped—and he woke from his first nightmare—he wasn’t expecting Thomas to lay down with him and help him back to sleep. No one had ever done that for him before. Not that he could remember, at least. But being in Thomas’s arms felt so… _familiar_. Like he’d done it a thousand times before.

There’s just something about Thomas’s presence that makes him feel safer than he can ever remember feeling. He just _knows_ that Thomas will protect him, no matter what. And it goes without saying. Neither of them would ever say it out loud, but they are each other’s first priority. The world can burn for all they care, as long as they have each other.

Newt buries his face in the crook of Thomas’s neck, fisting his hands in his friend’s t-shirt. And it’s all okay. He’s safe here. He doesn’t have to be afraid anymore. Thomas whispers these very things in his ear. Newt leans back, laying back down on the bed and pulling Thomas with him. They curl up against each other—the positions familiar to them by now. Being so close while they sleep always keeps the nightmares at bay. Knowing they can immediately seek safety in the other’s arms.

He thinks they’ll always have these nightmares. They may get fewer over time, but they’ll never just disappear. And that’s okay—they’ll always have each other to get through it. He feels Thomas pull the bedding up to cover their bodies, shielding them from the chilly night air. Even the indoors are cold at night. There’s never an in-between in the Scorch. It’s always either far too hot, or freezing cold.

Without really thinking, Newt tiredly slides his hand under Thomas’s shirt, gently running it over his back. He feels like it should be like this every night. Just them, together. Thomas exhales a warm breath into Newt’s hair, pulling him just a little bit closer.

They drift off, the nightmare forgotten, and the fear gone.


End file.
